


To Tame a Beast

by KinkShameMe



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biting, Bloodplay, But so is WOL, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, Masochism, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Pining, Sadism, Scratching, Some heckin denial kink, These two are both bad at feelings, Unhealthy Relationships, Zenos is a weirdo, female!WoL - Freeform, like seriously, no betas - we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-14 15:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20603183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinkShameMe/pseuds/KinkShameMe
Summary: You have made it your life's goal to build yourself up from nothing. You couldn't be satisfied by monotony if you tried it. The world is your oyster. Unfortunately, the sea also contains a sado-masochistic, obsessive, arrogant man that you want to run very far away from. Yet, you keep finding yourself drawn to him. As you navigate this impending disaster, you're also running a growing modelling agency.This will be fun.





	1. Chapter 1

You hadn’t expected to get this tipsy this quickly. But, strolling down the street arm in arm with Hien and giggling far too hard when one of you stumbles, you couldn’t deny you were further in the drink than you intended to get tonight. 

It was a result of your nerves. 

You hadn’t attended a get together like this one before, a fancily-worded meet and greet of the socialites of society. Making connections, impressing potential business partners, and intimidating competitors alike. It was your first, and thankfully, you weren’t alone. 

Hien was an ever-present constant in your life, and you would never be able to properly verbalise to him how much he meant to you. He had remained by your side through the ups and the downs, the easy and the hard, the painful and the fun. Your life had become a metaphorical roller-coaster after you had seized your destiny with both hands. It was incredibly taxing, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

~ 

You had been shocked when you were not able to find a job after high school. They had called you many things. A star pupil. An over-achiever. A sports fiend. Trophies lined the bedroom walls in your bedroom, and your teachers all held very high opinions of you. You had worked hard to create a name for yourself there. Surely it would translate over to your job applications after you graduated, and scoring a well-paying job would be a breeze! 

“You’re a very bright young lady,” Murmurs the aged woman across the desk, smiling weakly with weary eyes and a bone-deep tiredness. “I could get you a job at McDonalds.” 

You sat there, mouth agape. You must have looked foolish, because the woman only shrugs. 

“I’m sorry, but you just don’t have any experience.” 

You thanked her, because you knew it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault that in that moment, you felt your hard work turn to dust in your hands. The praises and the well-wishes becoming a bitter taste in your mouth. Experience. 

It made you furious. You were smart, driven, honest, and you were very good at adapting. You could learn just about anything in a surprisingly short space of time. Everything a company could value in an employee, conveniently wrapped in the mind of a dry sponge. You hadn’t been taught; you would be so easy to mold into whatever a company could want. And instead, you were offered the bare minimum. It was an honourable profession, there was nothing wrong with working in a fast food chain. But dammit all, you would never be able to be satisfied if you settled now. You had to strive for more, you had to find a way. 

So, you walked out of the employment agency, crumpled your paperwork in your hands, and tossed it carelessly in the trash-bin outside the front door. Your eyes were sharp, your brow was slightly creased, and nothing could dampen the desire for success that was thrumming through your veins. An idea already forming in your mind. 

You met Hien at a fashion exhibit. 

After the dose of reality that had been force-fed to you, you had invested all of your time into exploring the various avenues open to you. Attended events, shook hands, met those around in your area that had aspirations, talent, and a drive for success that matched your own. 

Asian-inspired fashion donned mannequins around the buildings, perfectly posed with artworks that complimented the colours of the garments perfectly. It was a small exhibit, obvious that the creator was still inexperienced as you were. But that was why you were drawn to it. 

Champagne clutched in delicate hand; you were tilting your head to properly examine one particular garment. Something that vaguely resembled a kimono, dancing the line of Japanese modesty and Western ideals. The upper half was relatively clothed, though the flesh-coloured mesh and swirling patterns would argue to what degree. Meanwhile it was shorter, slitted, exposing more leg than most people may be comfortable with. It was beautiful. 

You were mumbling to yourself, but you can’t even recall now what it was about, simply your thoughts parting your lips unconsciously. 

“Do you like it?” 

You jump, champagne almost spilling over your fingers with ears flattening atop your head as it turns to look at the source of sudden noise. A man with dark hair stands there, looking sheepish with a boyish smile. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

You relaxed at the genuine regret in his voice, ears raising again as your tail swishes gently against your own leg. 

“No, no. Forgive me. I was so involved I didn’t even notice you.” You offer a smile in return, your slightly pointed canines showing in the toothiness of it before your gaze drifts back to the gown. “Yes. I like it. To answer your question.” 

“It was one of my first. I have some newer ones that are better quality made, but this one is special.” 

You didn’t pause at his admission. “I have seen the others. They are wonderful as well.” Your hands reach out as if you planned to touch the material in front of you, before you hurriedly remembered yourself and your hand is tucked neatly across your chest. “I thought this may have been an early work. Not because of quality of work, really. But.. I can’t explain it. I can feel your effort in it. Like you’re trying to prove something.” The kind of determination you knew well, because you shared it. “Though I wouldn’t know whether you’re proving to yourself or someone else.” You give a light chuckle as you raise your glass to your lips and look back to him. The playful expression drops, however, when you see the odd expression on his face. You freeze, unsure if you had upset him. 

“I suppose it would be a bit of both.” He concedes, looking down, and then to the dress. There long moments of silence, before you hear him inhale long and deep, and once more your eyes find each other. “Can I.. get you a drink?” 

You already had a drink, but it was quickly thrown back with a couple of graceless gulps. “Yes. Please.” 

It was that night your co-operation began. Both unknown people with dreams too big to fit in one vision. 

He wanted to expand, and so did you. You found your small group of models and assistants through a newspaper ad. You created a look book, used for both sides as your models and his clothing were equal stars in every shot. The photography was the most expensive part of it, the man behind the camera overpriced and arrogant, annoyed at having to work with amateurs. But his young assistant was kind, the crimson-haired Miqo’te male smiling bashfully at you as you gave him toothy grins. 

Hien fiddled, you encouraged your models and supervised the photographer, and the look book was something to behold. It gave you something to present to possible clients. 

They were small jobs at first, but that was alright with you. It provided you enough to pay your team, and carefully invest the rest. 

Urianger was a dream with the finances. It was like he could tell the future, seeing what they would need money for before you had thought of it. You were in awe of him, and would strive to learn as much as possible from such a mind. 

Tataru was also a gift. She had a talent for organization, being able to co-ordinate makeup artists, hair artists, and stylists at seemingly the drop of a hat. You were a little shy to admit that you would often take advantage of her connections, but she never minded. She was always happy to help. 

Thancred was a common request when it came to male models. His stark white hair and pale skin were perfect for photographing, the look book showing off just how exotic he could appear in just about any clothing. His habit of seducing the women and men alike around him was a cherry on top. 

Y’shtola was a cool but unendingly kind model. There was never friction with her, but she was always the first to be able to discern someone’s character. Though she was blind, her milky eyes and pale hair shone like an angel in pale light. 

The twins were entertaining. Alisaie, the boastful and assertive female, and Alphinaud, the twin who seemed like he was still learning his own skin, were always amusing to be around. The niche market they had rarely fit into before had exploded after their premiere. 

Your group of models was small, but deeply treasured and loyal. When it came to a name for your company, it was of course a group effort. 

The Scions. 

Hien was making his own strides, sweeping the fashion industry off its feet with his new Doma brand fashion. 

It was perhaps bad timing, when Hien and yourself had dated. It was early, before you both had truly grasped how much your budding brands would pull from you. It was not a lengthy affair, a few months. But you would be forever glad that it had ended amicably, deciding to remain friends and support each other to the fullest extent. Sometimes, you could still catch the wistful smiles on each other’s faces when you gaze at each other. 

You met a young man to the end of your first year establishing your agency. A photographer that shared your visions and wanted to help you elevate your models through his perfect lens. He was freelance, but you knew he would drop everything, should you ever ask. 

Haurchefant. 

He was still in your employment, though he had always had connections with larger brands as well. He just had a soft spot for you, you suspected. But you also weren’t the type to exploit that either. 

Your agency was growing, the number of your models expanding, but your closest were immovable. You were here for them, as they were for you. You would do anything to give them anything they wanted. You needed to grow bigger, put your brand name out there more, build a bigger portfolio, add more clients. And you were on your way. 

You weren’t made to work the line. 

You were here to make your mark. 

~ 

Your hair was held perfectly as you finally arrived to the venue, only thanks to Tataru’s persistent observation, make-up on your face only enough to accentuate your features. You weren’t overly comfortable wearing too much, being pampered. That was for your models, not you. But tonight, you allowed it. As Hien’s arm curls around your waist in support, you once more thanked your lucky stars for her. You school your expression, the playful blush lessening as you stand in line with your partner. 

“I feel so nervous.” Hien murmurs to you, and you give an amused breath. 

“I could tell.” A brief moment’s pause, sliding your eyes to look up at him as your tail taps on the back of his thigh. “So am I.” 

You were wearing a dress of his design, a midnight blue gown that has a beautifully low-cut back and a higher neckline. Being relatively short compared to most others, you were thankful for this choice. His suit was also of his design, the yellow and cyan jacket a statement that was haute fashion if she had ever seen it; slung across half of his body with white fur and black patterns. 

“You look handsome.” You reassured him, your hand patting his that rested on your small waist. He grinned boyishly back. 

“Invitations, please.” The doorman beckons them, security standing guard behind. You reach into your clutch slung over your shoulder with gold chain, retrieving your own, as Hien pulls him from within his coat. The attendee glances them over, before smiling that customer-service smile and gesturing graciously for them to enter. “Enjoy your night.” 

“Thank you.” The nerved come back to nip at your heels, moving past the man perhaps a bit too fast, if Hien’s gentle laugh was anything to judge by. 

You climb the stairs just inside the entrance, focused on keeping your breathing even and your thoughts as clear as they can, though your nerves were cutting through the alcohol running through you like a knife already. 

You had no one to blame but yourself for the drinks you had with Hien beforehand. But you had Tataru to thank for lecturing you and having you study names and faces of different business CEOs, because as you breach the rooftop deck, all you could see was an ocean of expensive suits and glamorous dresses. 

Your breath leaves you in a rush, feeling Hien’s hand upon your waist squeeze slightly as he, too, struggles with his discomfort in such a public place. He was made for this, though. You had seen him win over many people in the span of a single conversation. He was a natural leader. 

When you looked up and saw your expression echoed back by his handsomely bearded face, you’re reminded that you were the same. You inhale slowly, and then release the long breath, and you move as a duo into the unknown. 

Your tail stays close to your body, not wanting to cause anyone to trip as you navigate through the bodies. Eyes slide to you and Hien, a sea of sharks scenting for blood. You didn’t pay too much attention to the stares; you weren’t chum. You make your way to the bar, Hien taking a glass of beer, and you taking a nice Moscato in your stiletto-clawed fingers. You mull the drinks but for a moment before a familiar voice calls out. 

“Warrior! Hien!” 

You flush at the nickname, even though you had adapted it as more of your professional alias. Spawned from a drunken night of shenanigans. A bottle too deep with your Scions, Hien, and Haurchefant had you wearing a crown of fairy-lights, wielding a steak knife dangerously and proclaiming yourself the Warrior of Light. The name wasn’t going anywhere; had only spread like wildfire through the industry. 

“Haurchefant!” You greet him back, ears flicking at your eagerness of knowing a familiar face, watching the blue hair weave past the last few bodies to stand before you. “How long have you been here? You should have texted me.” 

“No, I haven’t been here long.” He comforts you, like he always does. “Oh! And there is someone I want you to meet.” He looks back to where he had come from and gestures. From the fray arrives a noirette Elezen, eyes as blue as a clear sky and a smile that softens his face. 

“I presume you’re the Warrior I’ve heard so much about.” His voice was like silk, and you caught yourself staring for moments too long. His gaze moves from you. “And Hien, as well. I take it you have designed your garments this evening?” 

You clear your throat gently, clearing away the lingering unease and offer your hand to shake. “Aymeric. A pleasure to meet you. Ishgard truly is an innovator when it comes to footwear. I loved the pair featured in Vogue just this past week.” There was just the slightest shake to your voice, though whether due to nervousness or the alcohol was anyone’s guess. 

He takes your hand, though instead of shaking it, raises it to his lips with a gentle kiss to your knuckles. He smiles to you as he lingers, before relinquishing your hand back. “The pleasure is all mine. Your praise is too kind. I have also kept up with your work, I have heard news of your agency’s efficiency at supplying models that meet the demand perfectly.” 

The praise warms you, a flush raising to your cheeks as you can’t help that toothy grin you’re so guilty of showing. But you shake yourself. “Thank you. And, yes,” You pause to laugh, and gesture lightly to Hien, who had been content to wait. “I’m wearing Doma. Beautiful, don’t you think?” With no small amount of pride. A slight turn of your hips, just so the bared open back of the dress could be seen on the edge of your figure. 

“You wear it well.” Instead of responding, as the conversation shifts between the gentlemen for the moment, you take a drink from your wine glass. You meet eyes with Haurchefant around Aymeric’s towering figure. The blue-haired man sidles up to your side as Hien’s arm slips from your waist, indulging in his habit of talking with too much movement in his hands. 

“How have you been, darling?” You ask your friend, hand lifting to lay upon his shoulder as you regard him with a gentleness. He chortles softly. 

“I’ve been well. Work has been picking up, since we’re coming into the new season. The sets are nice this time of year, as well. I’ve always preferred winter.” You crinkle your nose in distaste; that was always a bone of contention. He laughs at you. “How about you, Warrior of Light?” 

You smack his collar lightly with a light, playful scowl at the name, though it soon breaks into an affectionate laugh. “I’ve been well. A recent influx of aspiring models has kept me on my toes.” 

You take another drink, and the night blends. Faces, voices, names, it’s all so much to retain. You play your part, you flounce and flit, introduce yourself to as many people as you can, and offer cards to those who you could imagine your agency supplying for. Hien departs from your side, moving independently as the alcohol fuels you both with its fabled liquid courage. 

Once you have broken yourself from yet another self-promotion and made your way to the bar with yet another empty glass, you heave a heavy breath, leaning your back to the bar and briefly indulge yourself in harmless people watching. Your tail curls obediently around your leg, exposed by Hien’s strategic slitting, the fur tickling on your flesh as tail’s tip flickers against the back of your own calf. 

“It is a delicate dance..” 

A voice to your side, and your head turns. 

It takes you an embarrassingly long moment to figure out whether the male in front of you is real, or just a figment of your drunken mind, fuelled by a lonely frustration. His blonde hair cascades down his shoulders, a beautifully cut nose, and a jawline that you couldn’t help but envy. He was stunning, and you feel a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol. 

It’s obvious he’s real, however, when his head turns and he focuses his ocean-blue eyes to you. 

They were cold, like shards of ice, even though his smile was gently resting on his perfect features. He struck you in such a way that you felt repelled and drawn in. 

“Don’t you think?” 

The soft timbre of his voice rouses you, and you force yourself to turn away from him. Even though he’s no longer in your vision, his gaze burns you like fire. 

“Not so much a dance,” You murmur back, gesturing to the barman for another drink, even though you knew you should stop. “As navigating a warzone.” 

“Oh? How so?” 

He seemed curious, so you hum lightly, waiting for another wine to be pressed into your hands before steeling yourself to turn back to him. He’s still breathtaking. Dammit. 

“Well, don’t give my opinion too much mind, I haven’t been to.. Very many of these.” Your hip bumps gently into the counter-top as you lean against it. “But it feels more like I’m wearing armour, more than a dress. People are paying attention, looking for chinks, seeing how high up the hierarchy we are, who we know. Seeing whether you’re better an ally or an opponent, depending on whether they can beat you or not.” 

He doesn’t look deterred, looking at you with a slight crease to his brow, like he was considering something. So, of course, your inebriated verbal diarrhoea kicks in again. 

“It’s flaunting power to whoever is a contender. You step on eggshells, steer the conversation in your favour, and create alliances. You have to make sure people know that you’re not an easy target. The difference is, you have to do it with a smile here. It’s different. Where war has battle strategies, here you have to be more underhanded.” 

He still hasn’t said anything, and now it’s making you awkward. You raise your glass and practically shove your mouth inside to keep yourself from ranting again. You look up to him, his tall stature towering over your own slight form. He’s still watching you, though now with an intensity you can’t place. 

“That’s.. What I think.” 

“What is your name?” You frown slightly, noting the slightly breathless edge to his voice and wondering if he was on the verge of laughing at you. 

“.. Warrior.” He laughs now, and your face flushes at how ridiculous you felt in that moment. Speaking of war, looking how you do, and then presenting such a name. 

“Warrior.” He repeats it back to you. His voice is extremely pleasant, you wouldn’t mind him saying many more things. 

“Mmm.” You hum in confirmation, though it was unnecessary. You remember yourself too late, free hand dropping to scrabble in your clutch for what turned out to be your last business card. You offer it over. “I run The Scions Modelling Agency. A pleasure.” 

He reaches for the card, taking it from you and examining the small card. You wait for him to introduce himself on his own, but give a hefty breath when you’re left unsatisfied. 

“And who might you be?” 

“Zenos.” You claw through all the names you had been forced to memorise, though they fuzz in your brain. You don’t remember a Zenos, and you would be sure to remember someone who looks as he does. Lips part to question him further, but he interrupts you before you can begin. “Would you like to dance with me, Warrior of Light?” 

He knew of you, of your reputation, and you sputter into your drink, once more flushing as you release a nervous giggle. “Oh, God.” Free hand raises, shielding your eyes as you tuck your body in on itself, still releasing breathy laughs. You don’t know why it was making you especially embarrassed to know a man this gorgeous knew of your embarrassing namesake. 

His brow lifts expectantly, though his smile only grows, so much so that you can sense it. “An answer would be nice.” 

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I mean..” You stutter, your brain still trying to catch up. “Sure.” Too hesitant. “Sure.” You say with more surety, drinking from your fresh wine for a moment, before placing it back on the bench. 

His hand extends to you, and when you place your own in his grip, you’re fully struck with the size difference. His fingers envelop your own, and your throat tightens as your gaze trails up his arm, his large form wrapped and pressed in a perfectly fitted suit. It was no doubt to be exclusive designer wear that would have you fainting at the price tag. Who was this guy? 

You allow him to lead you to the floor, moving slowly and surely, and thanking your lucky stars the natural clumsiness that comes out when you drink doesn’t have you falling flat on the floor on your way. Your eyes scan for a sign of Hien, Haurchefant, or even Aymeric, and find nothing. It has you almost pouting, before a sudden tug on your arm swiftly captures your attention, as does the following body pressed to your own. You swallow thickly again, taken aback like you hadn’t realized that dancing meant you had to actually dance. 

Your free hand slowly drags up his arm to place on his broad shoulders, the cut of his form truly something to behold. You let yourself move a little further, tracing the silk of his long blonde hair as it rests on his lapel, just to see if it was as soft as it looked. You weren’t disappointed. His own hand drops to your waist, pulling your slighter body against his own, looking down at you with those cold eyes of him. He struck you as a predator, his smile disarming, but his gaze slicing like an unsheathed blade. He was a dangerous man, even in your current state you could see it. But the feel of his body against yours was addicting. But more so than that, this close you could truly begin to sense the very scent of him. 

It was hard to place, but it was a heady combination that seemed to cling to him, but was nowhere near overwhelming. You hadn’t imagined a person could smell this good, and you found yourself frowning and leaning in to take a couple of deep breaths of him. Your eyelashes flutter before you collect yourself, looking up at him with a sheepish smile when you could see the action had been caught. He doesn’t say anything, and you weren’t about to either. 

The music was in the background, and your bodies met in a gentle sway, becoming a fluid movement with shocking ease. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words, seemingly content to keep you close with that expression like he was still considering you. You would part your lips to speak, then your eyes would catch his gaze and be enraptured once more, ears flicking atop your head as your tail’s tip darts in an emotion you didn’t want to delve into. 

After long moments, his hand slides to your lower back, and you’re pulled in closer, inhaling sharply and being caught once more in that trap of his scent. You felt like a fly being lured by honey, you knew it was happening and yet were powerless to stop it. 

His voice pulls you from your state of obsession, blinking owlishly up at him. 

“I had always thought these events were below me. Nothing had impressed me, no one had been of much interest,” He pauses, and you tilt your head to the side slightly. “I have been most fortunate tonight.” 

Whether he meant you or not, you weren’t willing to confirm, because his words had you trembling slightly in his grasp as your mouth goes dry. You don’t recall being so easy to seduce, and yet in this moment he has you in the palm of his hand. As if sensing your thoughts, his grip around your waist tightens, and he leans down over you. 

“I would be inclined to explore just how much you can surprise me, Warrior of Light.” 

Your nickname falls from his lips with a condescending tone, and instead of bristling, you melt, breath rushing from you in a shuddering exhale as if you had been punched. “Oh..” Is your intelligent response, eyes falling to half-mast. Perhaps it had been too long since you had been with someone in this way, since someone had so openly propositioned you and feeling that sense of desire. 

“Would you indulge me this night?” 

You knew what he was asking, what he meant. And you could find not a moment of hesitation. 

“Yes.” 

His smile deepens into something akin to a feline having caught the mouse. When he breaks apart from you, you almost chase after him. But you’re grounded by the fact his hand remains firmly upon the slender curve of your waist. He guides you through the crowd, and it must have been your imagination that it parts for you, the bodies moving out of your way. You don’t risk looking around, being deterred from this course of action that has an unnameable energy pulsing through your veins with a slowly burning need. You keep your eyes affixed to his features, even as he continues to look straight ahead. 

Had you been more sober, perhaps you would have talked sense into yourself. You would not have accompanied a stranger home, from an event that could have formed you connections in your industry, for a man you hadn’t met, and knew only the name of. Truthfully, though you would deny it later, you were not deep enough in the drink that such a path was closed to you. You could have talked yourself out of it. When he asked you to dance, when he pulled you close enough to feel the shape of his body, when he guides you through the crowds, and when he gestures you to get into his private car. At any point, you were sober enough to stop. You chose not to. The level of attraction you held for him was new and terrifying. You couldn’t resist it. 

When he elegantly seats himself in the back with you, the driver at the front blocked off by a sheet of black, you waste no time unbuckling your seat belt and moving onto his lap. 

He looks surprised, but very quickly pleased as his hands grip to the plush of your hips. 

You pause for a moment longer, just to look at him. 

And then you’re upon him. 

He kisses like you imagined he would, for what brief interaction the two of you were engaged in. Fierce. Demanding. Yet a sweet coercion, as if he was trying to convince you that you were able to take control, only to sweep the rug out from below you the next moment. Your hands raise, cradling either side of his perfect face as you tilt your head into him, deepening the kiss as you press close to him upon his lap. Your lips part, and he follows suit, letting him taste the sharpness of your pointed canines with a nip to his lip. He offers back a short and quiet groan, but it was enough for your grip to tighten upon him, your hips shifting to rub against his own. He regains his stride quickly enough, invading your mouth with his tongue and leaving no room for mutiny. You let him have this moment, ravish your lips with his own to draw out your rushed breaths and keening moans. His hands run up and down your sides, before one drops to grasp at the soft flesh of your clothed ass, and the other raises to grasp a handful of your tresses. 

The kiss parts as he pulls back on your hair, panting heatedly as your face is forcefully lifted to the ceiling, neck exposed. He gives a sharp growl, before descending with a cruelty on your neck. You wouldn’t call him gentle, but you wouldn’t call him rough, either. He bites his marks into you with sharp teeth, and only the barest soothing swipes from his talented tongue. Surrounded by his scent, you take the excuse to take heaving breaths of him, eyelashes fluttering until eyes close fully. 

A bump in the road has your slender form bounce on his lap, and you both give a sound of pleasure as your heat rubs against the hardness confined in his slacks. The movement raises the temperature in the car dangerously. Yet, you give a soft sob as he pulls from your spectacularly bruising neck, pulling back to look at your flushed, needy expression. 

“What is it about you,” Oh, God, his voice sent tremors through you, your hands sliding down over his chest, still hidden behind pressed cloth. You could feel his muscles when his breath hitches at your touch. “That makes me hunger this way?” 

He wasn’t really asking you anything, so you just part your lips in response, the pointed tips of your canines visible as you run your touch over him. 

“I want to devour you.” 

The admission strikes something in you that was like fire, burning the inside of your skin as you growl lowly, ears pressing to your head as you sink down, maw parting to take a mouthful of his neck into your mouth and start returning the favour. He seems surprised at first, his hands stopping, but when you feel your teeth break the skin, the pleasured moan that falls from him was almost enough to end you right there. 

“Yesss..” He hisses right into your ear, the hand in your hair tightening once more, but this time to press you more into his flesh, encouraging you to bite harder, more, like he wanted to feel it all. Your hands finally trail down to the firm expanse of his stomach; even further. Your fingers barely get the opportunity to brush along the length of his size when the car is pulling to a stop. Your ears perk, and you pull from him, looking from side to side as if only now remembering where you were. 

“We’re here?” Your voice trembles, knowing if you look back at him, you’ll fall under the spell, so you look anywhere else. 

“If not, I’ll be needing a new driver.” He murmurs the words to you in a seductive hum, and it enraptures you. Not enough, this time, that you forget your senses. You reach for your abandoned clutch, a hand flying up to your neck to try and cover the myriad of marks his left, shooting him a glare at the realization there was no way you’d be without them for some time. He just gives you that smile of his, and reaches to open the car door. 

You clamber over him with no semblance of grace, straightening out your dress as the driver looks at you, and then very quickly looks away. You’re sulking, and you can feel it. Zenos follows you out, closing the door sharply behind him before laying his hand once more over the small of your back to guide you. A good thing, too, because you were way too distracted by his touch. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, you were looking at him like he was a work of art. 

It surprises you when you’re pressed into an elevator; even more so when you’re quickly lifted and shoved against the wall. You voice your shock in a cry that’s swiftly muffled by an even more distracting mouth. You don’t complain again. 

Arms loop around the back of his neck, moaning into him as you arch your back, leaving no room between your bodies as he crowds you into the cold wall. His hips grind into your own, and you offer a whimper to be devoured by his hungry lips. The slick sounds of your entwining tongues are embarrassingly loud in the confined space, but his hand sliding to grasp a handful of your ass once more leave no room for thought. 

The elevator arrives, and Zenos departs with you attached like it was no different than usual. His feet carry him inside, and you don’t care where he’s taking you, as long as he doesn’t stop kissing you while he does so. Your hands force their way under the back of his shirt while he struggles to open a door in front of him, and you can’t help but drag your pointed nails up his back, drawing lines on his skin that was only fueled by his earlier reaction to your teeth. This time does not disappoint, him breaking the kiss between you to give a snarl of pained pleasure, feeling him shudder beneath your hands, and the satisfyingly loud noise of him kicking the damn door open. You offer a giddy laugh, high on the pleasure you were already riding on, as well as the exhilaration of fear that tickles through you in that moment. 

His hands, previously grasping you where he pleased, can’t be fought as they force you to detach from his body once more, only to be thrown unceremoniously on a bed. You cry out, raise your head to glare at him, but instead suffer another hot flush of arousal at the sight of him. His neck was marked from your teeth, his crystalline eyes with pupils blown wide from his own desire, his hands pulling on his tie to loosen it, and then the buttons of his shirt. 

You stare as he undresses, before you move to take off your own dress. Halted, quickly, by him grasping your wrists and keeping them still. 

“No,” He’s breathless, just as you are. “I want to be the one to undress you. I want to thoroughly savour the prize of my hunt.” That wording, it was odd. If you recalled it in the morning, no doubt you would question your sanity for choosing a loon to bed. Now, though, in the throes of pleasure and anticipation, you don’t move to shed your dress again. You wait, watching, obedient for now as he takes his time revealing himself to you. 

You’re fascinated as he pulls the bottom of his shirt free from his pants, buttons finally opened and exposing the corded muscles you had only guessed at with your touch earlier. His skin was pale, his blonde hair cascading down it beautifully as expensive clothing is carelessly tossed on the ground like it was nothing. You lay there, splayed out on his bed with your hands clenching and unclenching, wanting nothing more than to feel his warm skin beneath your touch once more. You bite on your own lower lip, hips shifting and thighs rubbing together to try and get some friction where you need it. He sees the movement, eyes falling to the movement and he smirks. 

“You crave this as much as I.” You almost roll your eyes at his chattiness. Of course you did. He was gorgeous. 

“Are you going to stand there in wonder, or are you going to take action?” You purr the words in a way you hope is seductive, and it seems to work well enough when his body crowds you in once more. He remains on his hands leaning over you, eyes dissecting your every curve, your every move. Then, when you were close to begging, he moves to undress you. You help him, though only so much as to move the right way, to arch your back and raise your arms as he pulls the clothing from you like he was unwrapping a cherished gift. 

When you lay upon his dark sheets, hair splayed out and cheeks flushed from alcohol and desire, body bare apart from your bra and panties, he takes his time with you. Hands sliding over the swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the slight plushness of your hips and thighs. He seems as enthralled as you, and you whimper to try and usher him on, reaching to slide your fingers along the back of his scalp. He offers you a heated breath, looking up to your gaze where it remains; hands venturing to unclasp your bra with deft fingers and remove it. You’ll struggle to find your clothes in the morning, with the way he’s tossing them without a care over his shoulder. 

Breasts exposed; his hands give them due attention while his eyes never shift from yours. In fact, he raises until your foreheads touch in an intimidatingly intimate moment that has you breathless once more. He’s watching your reactions, savoring the sounds that fall from your lips and paying mind to what draws them. 

After your nipples had become too sensitive from his ministrations, and your whines become those bordering on pain does he move on. He slides down your body, lips pressing softly to the insides of your breasts, trailing down your quivering midsection, his fingers hooking in the band of your panties but not removing them as he finally gets close to where you want him. 

“Zenos..” You finally call his name and he acts like you had struck him, a sharp groan as he bypasses your heat to bite hard on your inner thigh. You yelp, shivering, the pain blending with your pleasure in a way that still has you wincing, but your slickness pulsating in need to be touched. “Zenos, please! Please..” You want to cry, and it’s like he hears the tears in your voice from his chuckle, and decides to take pity on you. 

“I told you that I wanted to devour you.” His voice is so thick, you can only sob in response. His fingers drag the cloth of your panties from your hips, backing up enough that he can pull them down your legs, fling them away, and then kneel back between your legs again. “I intend to make true on that.” 

His hands slide up your legs, grasping hard to your thighs and pulling so that your hips are just on the edge of the bed. You look down in surprise and find him watching you; the expression he wears one that you can’t look away from. He keeps that gaze with you, like he was trying to see straight into your soul, while his mouth finally descends on your arousal. 

You shout in delight, back arching and legs hooking around him as much as possible as once he begins, he assaults your senses with no mercy. His tongue is a weapon and a gift, sliding between your slick folds and pressing flat to your sensitive clit. “O-oh!” The sensations were divine, and he was ravenous. Your taste had him groaning against your skin, his hands grasping tight enough to bruise just so he could keep himself as close to your heat as he could get. Your hips grind against his face anyway, tail thrashing wildly over the edge of the bed as he resembles a beast on its prey. 

Your first orgasm hits you out of nowhere, a short scream tearing from your throat as your whole body pulses from the pleasure, your fluids not wasted as he groans his delight and swallows. It leaves you weak, shuddering, but you’re given no respite. 

“W-wait..” You protest as you feel him begin again, though this time with more precision. He is a frighteningly fast learner. You’re over sensitive. It hurts, yet it feels too good, and you’re writhing under his hold. You slow and then stop with a whimper as the strength of his hands holding you down becomes too much, stilling so that he may continue. You pant, staring up at his ceiling as the world spins. You had never cum just from oral before, surely it had just been too long? 

You’re given just a moment of post-orgasm clarity before the pleasure and the need take over again. 

You grind on his face desperately, hands reaching down to take fistfuls of his silken blonde tresses and hold his mouth tight to you, head thrown from side to side. His tongue, having learned of your folds, now moves to your entrance, the tightness of it clenching before relaxing and allowing his slick muscle to push inside of you. 

“Ah! Yes!” You voice your enthusiasm; you knew his tongue was impressive from kissing him earlier, bur perhaps you had also underestimated its length. It strokes along your inner walls, leaving you a panting, shaking mess as he drinks his fill of you. His huffs of breath fall from his nose, though not regularly. As if he was far more interested in your pleasure than breathing. It’s with that thought and a particularly splendid curl of his tongue, that has you building up and rolling over your second orgasm. Your jaw grits tight before relaxing, your limbs shaking from the euphoria that rushes through your mind and blocks out all but the slick sounds of him thoroughly making a mess out of you. 

He takes mercy just this once, giving you a moment of rest and pulling his mouth away. You look down at him with a bleary gaze to watch him lick your fluids from his lips, though you see the slickness on his chin also. 

“Delicious.” 

You whimper in response. You want him to crawl upon you, to take you as he wanted, so long as every inch of him is pressed against your body. You wanted to breach his back with your claws once more, to bite and tear at his skin as you both seemed to enjoy so. You wanted to tie him up and use him for your own pleasure. Scenarios play out in your head, and your desire to see them come to fruition is strong. 

For now though, strength was zapped from your limbs, so you couldn’t fight against him when he forcefully turns you onto your stomach, hand dragging you up to your knees and the other forcing your head to remain down in the sheets. Your tail flickers in interest. 

“Stay.” You obey, your own clawed hands moving to take fistfuls of the sheets below, maw parting and closing around a mouthful of the cloth, growling lowly into it as instead of mounting you as expected, he grasps your plush lower cheeks and parts them. “You won’t be leaving my bed tonight, Warrior.” Words murmured lowly before he was diving upon your quivering sex once again with his mouth. 

He brings you to tears, screaming into the sheets as you tear slashes into his sheets. The kindness he had offered to you before was a distant past, as he brings you to completion time and time again; you couldn’t hope to keep track. He was a musician mastering your body as its instrument, and you cursed that he was so astute. You didn’t know how much time passed. Your body was glistening with a sheen of sweat and boneless. Your legs were unable to hold you up anymore, only his hands on your hips kept you upright. 

With a final wet sound, he pulls away from you, letting you fall to the bed, fully drained. 

No, you couldn’t remember how many times you came that night. Not now, or in the morning. The alcohol, and the fact that your mind had been completely blown were to blame. 

The only thing you remembered was the sight of him rising to his feet behind you before sleep claimed you.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing you noticed when you wake is the throbbing in your skull, like your brain was too big for your head. You give a muted groan, turning your face into the pillow like it would save you from facing the pain you had doomed yourself to.

“Never drinking again.” You murmur into the plush fluff, noting how it felt so spectacularly soft against your head. Had your pillow always been like this, or was the comfort magnified by your hangover? Either way, you lay there for some long, calm moments, enjoying the warmth and the plushness.

Then reality comes back when a body shifts against your back and breath hits the back of your neck.

Your eyes shoot open, even as you wince from the daggers stabbing into the back of your eyeballs. You’re too scared to look around. Oh God.

This is why you don’t follow people home. This is why you never allow anyone into your house. Moments like these. The daunting awkwardness.

As last night’s activities come back to you, you want to smack yourself in the face. Instead, you take your time making an inventory of the state of your body. Your neck hurts from a necklace of bruising bites, as do various parts of your body; your thighs, breasts, and stomach. Hips from where they were gripped with a death grip. And when you press your thighs together, you whimper at the answering soreness from your more intimate areas. But it was the type of pain that accompanied abuse of oversensitivity.

Okay. You didn’t actually let him fuck you. That’s a step. From the shape of him pressing into your back, you had a feeling you would be far less mobile had he had his way with you to that degree.

On the other hand, you blue-balled a mystery hot guy from a high-class party, without even knowing which company he was from. So much for fostering good relations and making connections. You wouldn’t exactly call this a success.

After a couple of deeper breaths, you pull away from his sleeping body enough to look back at him. He looked just as angelic as last night, and you curse yourself. His long blonde strands tumble over his broad shoulders, muscles evident from a man who takes care of himself, and his features looking like they were carved from stone. You face forward again, scowling at your poor choices.

Where had Hien been? He was meant to take care of you and stop these kinds of things from happening. You were going to chew his ear off later.

Right now, you had to focus on shuffling out of bed slow enough that you didn’t rouse the beast in bed. You weren’t prepared for that kind of interaction.

It works well, even as his hand slides from your waist he doesn’t seem to awaken, and you looked skyward, promising to whatever  deity was looking down on you that you owed them so big.

You tiptoe around the mess of clothes on the floor, your tail helping you balance and stay as light on your feet as you could. You find your underclothes, sliding them on while staring at him beneath the sheets. You cringe as you briefly stumble while trying to shove your second leg in your panties, but you only hear a soft murmur in response. You wait, and there’s silence. Your dress is next, pulling it over your head. Your shoes – where were they? You don’t even remember taking them off.

You look around and can’t find them in here. Nor your clutch. You hiss under your breath and slip out of the still open door. You stare at the footprint slammed into the door in confusion. Then understanding.

You skitter away from the bedroom and find your shoes and clutch leaving a trail from what must be an elevator door to the bedroom. Your bag’s gold chain jingles as you lift it, and you take your heels in hand before moving to the mechanical doors. Thankfully, it seems to operate much like any other elevator, so you press on the down button and wait.

The whirring sounds have you glancing nervously behind you, and the ding of its arrival is way too loud. You scramble in, pressing repeatedly on the close door button, while staring right at that bedroom door.

The doors close without sight of the hulking man and you lean against the cool back wall with a heavy exhale.

You felt like you just went 10 rounds in a boxing ring.

“Fuck. Stupid. Stupid woman.” Now that there’s no fear of being caught, you curse yourself aloud, giving yourself a firm smack on the forehead that causes your hangover to hit you all over again. You whimper, tears springing in your eyes. “Ow.”

The elevator stops and you walk out into what seems to be a living room. You pass a mirror, and finally get to fully appreciate just what that man had done to you last night. Your hands raise to cover your neck as your face flushes, and you very quickly, with what dignity you can summon, stride out the front door. It opens for you, and you’re thankful that it has sensors to let you out. It would have been a nightmare to get this far, and then have to go back to the man you were trying to sneak away from.

The walk of shame was always your least  favourite part about all of this.

You don’t look back, not wanting to see the fancy place you had just come out from. You walk down the block, a very long block you notice, before you let yourself stop and properly breath. You can still smell his intoxicating scent all over you. It made you weak at the knees, so obviously you couldn’t wait to go home and shower it all off.

Your hand lifts your clutch, pulling your almost dead phone from within, and you once more shoot your thanks to the sky that it’s still alive.

There is a torrent of texts from Hien, and you scowl at your phone, ignoring them in  favour of opening Google maps to see where your current ping is. You frown at it, not having heard of the street, before ordering a taxi to whatever the address closest is.

You wait outside a gate, leaning against it as your hand lifts to rub against your eyes. Your head hurts. Your body hurts. You’re ashamed.  One night stands suck, no matter how blindingly hot they are.

As the taxi rolls up in front of you, you can only take solace in the fact you had left nothing for him to seek you out with. Absolutely nothing at all.

~

“Where the hell did you go last night?”

You groan at being yelled at by your phone, and the echoing sound shows that Hien was in just as much pain from doing it. When you got home, you had fallen straight back asleep in bed, despite it being 10 o’clock on a work day.

“Me? Where did you go?” You petulantly respond, the phone tucked against your ear and your shoulder as you ready yourself an extra-strength coffee. You were going to need it. “I was looking for you and couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“ I.. It doesn’t  matter where I went!” Hien’s response has you blink, and then slowly grin.

“Oooh. Okay, uh huh.” You knew, he knew you knew, and now he was embarrassed.

He sighs in your ear, mumbling. “I guess we both drank a little too much, huh.”

“I guess so.”

“ Wanna get lunch?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

~

You arrive at the office at 1pm, leftover food in hand, and a store-bought coffee in the other. You yawn as you walk in,  Tataru taking one look at you and wincing.

“You look like hell itself.”

“I feel like it too.” You mutter quietly, taking a nice long sip of heaven-juice. You were classically hungover. Your eyes were drooping, there was a frown creasing your brow, and you hadn’t bothered with any kind of makeup today. You were wearing a cashmere turtleneck and black pants; you promised yourself you would give more effort tomorrow.

“How was the party?”

“It was good, yeah. I gave out all my business cards. I met some people I think are interested in collab.” The thought of your successes that night cheer you up.

She smiles gently at you. “That’s good.  Alphinaud and  Alisaie are already out on their set.”

“Oh, shit!” You, being unprofessional, cry out. “They had a shoot today!”

“Don’t worry, I sent  Urianger with them to make sure it went smoothly.”  Tataru laughs at you, obviously unperturbed by your outburst. “And he sulked about it the whole way, too.”

“I can imagine he did. But it’s good for him anyway.” You sigh, and move to walk into your office, another yawn parting your lips as your tail swishes sleepily behind you.

Your office was the same as always. Clean, professional, and yet having homely touches you just couldn’t be without. It wasn’t clinical, it was tidy. There was a plant in the corner that only survived due to  Tataru’s fastidious care. A string of lights  hangs around displays on the walls where some of your  favourite pictures hung. Each model from their first shoots, and some especially pretty ones and ones filled with memories. You smile at them as you do every day. You loop around your desk, throwing yourself in your plush business chair, and set in for what would, hopefully, be a calm day.

You promise yourself that, as you huddle around your coffee mug and open up your emails.

It begins normal enough, cycling through and responding to events, bookings, and requests. It was easy to maintain your service level when you were behind a screen and not required to actually speak to anyone. You finally reach the last one, and a crease forms in your brow as you squint. You’re convinced you’re just seeing double, and the words aren’t actually saying what you think they are.

But even through your superior squinting efforts, the words don’t change.

Your back straightens as you almost fly up in your chair, nose-to-monitor as you gape uselessly. You should be ashamed at yourself, from how ridiculous you looked. You squint as you reread, as if by seeing them a second time, you would make sense of it.

_ Meeting Request -Office of the President: The Empire _

You gape for far too long, before your hand retreats from protecting the coffee cup to slap over the mouse, gradually dragging it to click on the email, screen lightening as it opens before your very eyes. You were a bit scared to even blink, lest  it disappear.

_ Good Morning, _

_ This is an email to formally request a meeting with the CEO of The Scions modelling agency. As our brand is expanding and maintaining an influx of marketing opportunities, the acting President would like to discuss an arrangement of mutual benefit in regards to contracting models supplied by The Scions name. _

_ Please let us know available times as soon as possible, highly preferable to be in the next two days. _

_ If you are interested, please email me your availability, and we will arrange a meeting at our offices. _

_ Kind regards, _

_ Fordola _ _ rem  _ _ Lupis _

_ Executive Assistant to the President. _

Your mouth hangs open, gaping shamelessly before you put your coffee cup on the desk and then slam your hands on the surface.

“ Tataru !” You cry out her name in near desperation, your head pulsing from the hangover, but adrenaline was a fine friend. You hear something clatter out at the front desk before the short woman runs in, looking shocked by the tone in your voice.

“Yes!” She peeps back, looking at you with a wild gaze as if she was prepared for the worst.

“ Ta.. Ta... Come!” You flourish your hand at the computer, tail hitting against the chair as it writhes. “Read! Look!”

Her expression shifts into one of confusion, looking between your aghast features and the illuminated screen shining on your face. She slowly creeps in, moving around the desk and you watch as her eyes flick from side to side with the speed of her reading. In moments, her expression mirrors your own, and she meets your eyes.

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

“Oh!”

“Yep!”

She squeals and you wince at the sound echoing through your skull.

“ Ohoho !” She moves to scuttle from the office, and you squint after her. “I’m going to check your diary for tomorrow!” She goes from view, but you start when she peeks back at you with a withering stare. “And put your glasses on before you give yourself a worse headache.

You grumble to yourself and fish them out of your desk.

You slide them up your nose with a single finger, and you instantly see the words on the screen in stark clarity. That really was better.

You begin typing back, wondering if you were sounding professional and were playing off your incredible excitement.

_ Good morning, _

_ Thank you for reaching out to The Scions to supplement your modelling needs. I will bring a portfolio of our models for perusal, and I can give information as needed. _

You frown at the screen, knowing you sound like a lame-ass, but grit your teeth.

“Any luck on a time, Tataru?”

“For  tomorrow.. 11:30am seems to be free!”

“Sweet. Thank you!”

_ I am available for a meeting at 11:30am tomorrow. I look forward to meeting with your company, and looking into cooperating in future endeavours. I will await the details on where to arrive. _

_ Thank you for considering The Scions modelling agency. _

Your tongue licks over your lips as you click send, scooping up your now lukewarm coffee and chugging it down. By the Twelve.

Things were really working out for you.

The buzz lasted you throughout the day, particularly when you texted Hien with the exciting news and could almost hear him cheering you on from across the city. You really didn’t deserve that man’s friendship.

It kept your mind from wandering to the mess you had ran away from that morning. At least, for a few hours. By the time you were driving on your way home, stopped at a red light, it smacks you back in the face and you groan to yourself and rest your forehead against the steering wheel. An exhale accompanies your aggravation at yourself, cheeks puffing out slightly as you sulk.

You remember the sight of him smirking at you at the bar as clearly as you remember seeing him smirk between your legs. You wonder if that’s his constant expression, or if the sense of cool detachment early in the night was more his resting face. Either way, framed in those silken golden locks, he’s living in memory behind your eyelids, reinvigorated every time a mark on your body aches. A  flush rises in your cheeks as you straighten, seeing the light had turned green and quickly pressing your foot to the accelerator.

At least you were being distracted with thoughts of the beautiful man after hours, not during what could be one of the defining collaborations of your career. It was only a matter of time before he creeps into your thoughts again.

Curse your vulnerability for handsome men!

You make a mental note to ask  Tataru who he was in the morning, the topic having been left behind after the frantic atmosphere tomorrow’s meeting had placed on you.

But, as you pull into your driveway and move out of your car, you file the thoughts away for later. You wanted a warm bath, a nice meal, and an early night. You had to make yourself presentable tomorrow.

~

It turns out that covering up the more severe bite marks took  way longer than expected. The worst part was, that they were still slightly visible. An improvement, though, and you really had no more time to devote when you were running out the door with a coffee and a dry piece of toast between your lips.

Slamming your car door shut, you punch in to call the office through your car as you drive, kicking the vehicle into reverse.

“Thank you for calling The Scions modelling agency. My name is Urianger.”

It wasn’t the voice you expected, and you blink widely before smiling.

“ Urianger ! How was the twins’ shoot yesterday?”

“Ah, Warrior. I pondered when you would contact me, though surprised am I at the hour.” He sounds amused, and you scowl.

“Yes,  well.. You wouldn’t have wanted to speak to me yesterday anyway.” You were in a far better mood today.

“I would have preferred to be told of your latest prospect sooner.”

You feel guilty immediately, ears flattening to your head even though the chuckle you hear through the line shows no hard feelings. “Yeah.. Sorry about that too.”

“Mind not. The shoot went well.” He goes into the finer details of it, and you listen as you weave your way to the assigned address. The building was huge as it came into view. A shining chrome monstrosity topped with their golden emblem. It was not the first time you had driven past it, but it still amazed you anyway. You almost miss the turn off to take you into the underground car parking, waving your hand apologetically at the angry beep you got from another motorist.

“.. Though  Alisaie has been greatly improving with maintaining professionalism, I digress.”  Urianger finishes up as you clear with the guard and glide into a parking spot.

Your car felt very out of place in the sea of what looked like a car dealership. Both cars beside you looked like they had barely seen the road, and you would faint at the price tag. It intimidates you, ears tucking slightly even as you clear your throat.

“Yes, she’s been getting better indeed, Urianger.” You check your makeup and your neck in the small mirror on your sun shade before slapping it back up. “But I have to go for now. I’m about to go into the meeting.” You pause, swallowing before grinning sheepishly. “Wish me luck?”

He huffs in  amusement; you can almost hear him shaking his head. “Best of  luck, Warrior of Light.”

And then you’re alone in your car, and the silence is thrice as daunting. Reaching to the passenger seat, you pluck your portfolio folder from the seat and step out.

Your sleek black heels tap on the cement and echoes, as is the same with any movement you make in this basement level, it seems. Your car door sounds impossibly loud and you wince as you lock it. You take a moment to slide a hand down your clothes to make sure they’re straight. The modest cobalt dress is tucked up slightly from sitting in your car, quickly straightened by clawed hands that then flatten out the pressed collar of your black business jacket. Your hair was styled in a loosely professional way. You wanted to make a good impression, but you couldn’t completely tame your devil-may-care tresses. You shift the portfolio folder in your arms, your phone pressed between the object and your flipping stomach.

Your pace was quick and shortened with your nerves,  helped by the fact that the sounds seemed to follow along behind you. As if you weren’t on edge enough! You reach an elevator, slapping your hand on the arrow to take you up as your tail swishes behind you, betraying your true nerves to the world. You almost grab it to make it stop, but the sound of the elevator arriving distracts you enough that the annoying appendage gets a free pass for now.

You stride in and the doors slide closed, focusing on calming breaths as the white noise greets your ears. You could do this. You were the damn Warrior of Light! Your company could really grow if you performed well and pushed your models well enough. No one could make this happen but you!

It’s with new  vigour that you leave the elevator. You’re greeted with a meticulously clean yet comforting lobby. The  colour scheme gleams with darker  colours and crimson detailing; you take your time to look around as you make your way to the reception desk, humming low in your throat.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” The voice was pleasant, if a bit disinterested, but it was enough to pull your attention to the smartly dressed woman behind the bench.

“Oh! Uh, yes. Yes. I’m here for an 11:30 meeting.”

“With whom?”

“Well, the email was sent by  Fordola rem  Lupis , but I  assu -” The girl immediately stands, smile stretching on her features even though it looks like her eyes are pitying you. You narrow your gaze.

“Yes, ma’am. This way, please.” The other receptionist doesn’t even look bothered, twirling a pen in her fingers as she talks on the phone and makes the occasional note. This place was so far from what you were used to that you felt the discomfort growing again.

“ O.. Kay.” She takes you right back to the elevator, only this time she walks in there with you, mashing a button high up on the number-pad. You don’t know what to say, so for a moment you stand there in pregnant silence. “ So.. What’s the President like?” Honestly, anything to fill the silence.

“He’s a great ambassador and makes the best decisions possible for the company.” She chirps back, smiling but not looking at you.

“Huh. Neat.” Yeah, you would prefer silence over whatever that was.

Your suffering was relatively quick, the chime of the doors opening having you both retreat from the box. The room you move in to is similar to the lobby. Clean, shiny, well maintained. Professional.

“ Fordola . The President’s 11:30 appointment has arrived.” Your short attention span is reigned in again, this time directed at the tattooed woman sitting behind the single desk.

“You may go, then.” The curt response doesn’t seem to insult the receptionist, instead she seems to breathe a sigh of relief before shooting you another smile and almost running back to the elevator. What an odd girl.  Fordola stands, looking slightly uncomfortable in her crisp black pantsuit. She doesn’t smile at you, the hard look in her eye saying that she wasn’t the type of woman to smile much anyway. “Follow me. The President will not be long.”

“Sure.” There wasn’t much else you could do anyway, about from hurry along behind her as she opens the doors you hadn’t even noticed behind her desk. Immediately, you raise a hand to shield your eyes before you let it drop, blinded by the light but quick to adjust. It takes you very little time to realise it was bright from sunlight, not the interior decorating. Floor to ceiling windows covered the wall behind the stylish desk, though the  colour scheme in this office were the same as outside it. But this  felt.. Different. You didn’t know how to explain it, really, too riveted to turn around as the doors close when  Fordola departs.

You couldn’t place your finger on why it was different, your steps carrying you forward, looking down as the plush fur rug halts the sound of your heels clicking. There was a glass coffee table and what looks like two black leather love seats. Rather than homely, though, they felt more rigidly professional. Your instincts felt like you were walking into the maw of a  Venus flytrap.

With your hand trailing on the sleek black leather, the door opens once more and you turn your head.

Immediately, your stomach drops into your feet.

Well... fuck.

The smirk that greets you is familiar, the hulking frame neatly wrapped in a pristine suit similarly so.

“ Fuck.. ” It leaves your lips before you can stop it. You quickly turn your horrified expression to the wall across from you. “Oh, shit.”

You peer back at him at the sound of him approaching you, only to look quickly away again.

Nope. You were trapped in a nightmare. A horrendous nightmare.

“Welcome, Warrior, to my office.” His voice gives you that same trembling through your body that it did before and it was incredibly unfair.

Your free hand raises to cover your eyes, ears tucked and tail puffed and still. “This isn’t happening.”

He’s close enough now that you hear the chuckle go through him, and the intoxicating scent of him assaults your senses. You can’t help but breathe deeply.

“You left so early yesterday.” He doesn’t sound angry, just ponderous. “But luckily,” His large hand is in your vision, brandishing your business card like a piece of evidence. “You had given me this.”

At the party. You bite back a groan at your own stupidity. Your eyes close, trying to gather yourself, but that becomes immediately hard when you feel him crowding against your side. He wasn’t touching you, but his frame was too tall, too broad, and he had an aura beyond intimidating. He’s messing up your thoughts, sending them straight back to the feeling of his sheets on your back, the pleasure he gave you, all from the complicated scent of his cologne.

You didn’t know your breath was quivering until his hand lifts to catch a thread of your hair through his fingers. Automatically, your body steps away from him, eyes wide like you might just bolt, before you school yourself in.

“Your  office.. I take it you’re the President then? The appointment?” To remind both yourself as well as him as the point of this visit was business.

His expression was soft, eyes betraying his intensity as he stares at  you. “Zenos  yae Galvus .” He offers you his hand, which you hesitantly reach to shake. It’s the last name that you recognise, and you want to punch yourself all over again.

Varis zos  Galvus , his father, was the CEO. That was why she hadn’t expected to see Zenos that night, hadn’t learned his name. If such a tidbit was mentioned by  Tataru , that the son of the CEO was the President, she couldn’t recall it.

You noticed he still held your hand, and you tug it to take it back.

“Shall we talk business, then?” He gestures to the desk – HIS desk.

You can only nod, turning and stiffly walking to plop yourself down in one of the two chairs before the desk itself. He takes his time circling it, feeling his gaze burning holes into you as he takes his place on the oversized office chair. That made sense, now. You were surprised you hadn’t noticed it before.

“ There.. There wasn’t a whole lot of information about the proposal in the email.” You begin, trying to gain the confidence you were well known for, so you place your portfolio and your phone on the desk. “ So I brought a few options  for.. For..”

You’re immediately distracted again, as your gaze are drawn to the unhidden bitemarks on his neck, perfectly matching the shape of your mouth. Your cheeks flare with  colour , and suddenly you were wishing you had spent the extra time covering up your own neck. He was shameless.

“For?”

“For consideration. We have a range of talented models that are very flexible with concepts.” You don’t let yourself look at the marks again, eyes dropping to the folder as you open it to the first page.

“I wouldn’t be considering your agency for one job.” You perk up, braving to meet his stunning crystalline hues.

“No?”

“No. I would be looking at hiring for a long-term arrangement.” He leans to place an elbow on the desk, tilting his head forward some. “If I play, little Warrior, I play for keeps.”

You got the feeling he wasn’t just talking about your agency anymore, and you frown at him. “ Ah.. I see.” You weren’t doing a great job of playing him off, one of your ears flicking as you clear your throat. “Well, we’re always happy to set up something like a mutually beneficial contract over a specified amount of time.” You nervously lift your hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “As long as it’s understood that as your company works with multiple agencies, we also will be working with multiple brands.”

His expression darkens, and he leans back. “You would not need to.”

You immediately  bristle , but keep yourself calm. “My apologies, but I am not prepared to sign an exclusivity contract at this time.”

His hand slams on the desk, but his expression is the same as always.  Cooly calm with a smile you don’t really understand. “What if I insisted on it?”

Your aggravation takes control, cursing your short temper as you move to stand and pull your folder back to you. “Then I’m sorry to decline, and it’s unfortunate we couldn’t reach an arrangement.”

He stands as well, his voice falling an octave. “Sit.”

The scariest thing is, you do.

He remains standing, looking down at you. “I’m not going to insist on such a contract.” There’s a shuddering sense of relief in you. “What I want is contact, contracted work, and a fair but firm pay division.” You don’t know why he bothered taking his seat apart to look imposing, because he was circling around the desk like a shark towards you. “What I want is to have you and your models on set, doing the best work possible to promote my brand.” He stands in front of you, and you can hear his heavy breaths. “What I  want.. ” He reaches towards you, his fingers tracing the length of your neck, and pressing cruelly onto one of the covered marks. “Is you, my beautiful beast.”

Your lips part, entranced by his words, by his touch. It wasn’t right, for him to be able to play you like this. You couldn’t use your drunk excuse now.

“Beast..?”

“Yes, sweet savage.” He leans over you, large hand now curling with an insistence around your slender throat. He closes in until his words are murmured into your ear, breath giving you goosebumps. “Only a beast can tear me up the way you do.”

Your breath hitches, though it has nothing to do with the hand upon your throat. “Oh..” You would usually hate the breathlessness in your tone, but you couldn’t think of that right now. Not when he was so close to you. Your eyes close halfway, tongue exiting your lips to lick over them. You feel the sharp sensation of his teeth nipping your ear and jump. You move to pull your head away, but pause as you feel him moving. He slides away from your ear, but not away from you, instead tilting his head to have his lips only barely brush against your own.

Your gaze is on him in an instant, seeing the way his pupils have expanded even slightly, inhaling him with every breath, and then it’s sealed when his lips press with even more insistence against you. You feel yourself melting despite your brain screaming at you to do otherwise.

His hand raises to massage against the joint of your jaw until you relax it enough for your lips to part for him. Then, with a satisfied hum, his tongue slips into your mouth and you whimper. Your hands long to raise and grasp at his lapel, pull him in closer, but you restrain yourself with what little control you maintain. Instead, you respond with your tongue timidly encouraging the way he was dominating your mouth.

He crowds in on you, his towering form leaning over you and one of his leg lifts to rest a knee between your thighs, which unconsciously part to fit him in. His right hand remains around your throat, his left raising to slide in your styled hair and tilt your head as he pleases, drawing soft sounds from you that he’s happy to swallow.

Like your body and your rational senses were trying to help you, your jaw closes slightly upon his tongue, the pointed tips of your canines digging into his slick muscle and granting a taste of copper to your palate. He growls fiercely, his tongue retracting and finally allowing you to breathe. You take the opportunity to draw in heavy  lungfuls of air, eyes fluttering open.

The look of pure desire, bordering on obsession you see on his face scares you.

You jolt like you had been sprayed with ice water, the lustful fog that had slipped over your eyes hurriedly torn away.

“ I.. I better..” You point back at the door, seeing not a flicker of change in his expression even as it feels like you’re waking up. His pupils had taken over the searing blue of his eyes, making you think of a man possessed. “I should go..”

“Hm? Why, precious beast? It’s not possible to have something more important to attend to.” His voice was a silken purr, and his words were far too weighted to have no ulterior meaning. Your cheeks flush deeper, and you swallow thickly, still tasting his blood on your lips. As if he had the same thought, he licks over his bruised lips. “It’s been far too long since someone showed me such fire.”

Your desire to run increases, hand raising to take hold of his wrist and dig your claws into his skin, though lessen your grip at the hunger that flashes over him.

“I came here with business in  mind.. ” You offer an excuse.

“There’s no shame in business becoming pleasure.”

“If we’re going to work together, it would become awkward.” Another.

“I disagree. I think it would  be.. Advantageous.” As he speaks, he leans in again, moving the hand on your neck enough so that he can trail his lips and accompanying heated breath on your jaw.

“I have a boyfriend.” A lie, this time.

You feel the stuttered breath of a chuckle. “Even if that was true, I would care not. I have not been able to stop craving your taste on my tongue once more.” He makes his way to your ear, fierce teeth biting down, and soft tongue soothing over. “I’m going to make you mine, my beast. I’ll have you, no matter the cost.”

The fog threatens to cover your vision again as the words strike a primal chord in you. You feel the smirk on your cheek as if he senses it, and you finally pull together the strength to shove hard enough on his shoulders that he recoils. Though whether that was  your doing or his indulgence wasn’t clear. You pull from the chair with little grace, far too concerned with creating distance to look graceful doing it.

There was something wrong with this. With him. It wasn’t normal for a grown, put together woman acting like a teenager. You had pride, self-respect, a drive, and yet you were acting this way.

Clearing your throat, you smooth your hands over the front of your dress, seeing him straighten in your peripheral, and sensing the scalding crystalline gaze never shift from you.

“ I.. ” You didn’t know where to start, and so steel yourself and look directly at him. Determination shines like a blaze in your gaze. “If you still wish to continue business with my agency, then we can write up a contract. If this is all you were looking for,” you gesture to the chair, almost with frustration. “Then you can find someone else.” Your tail was flicking from side to side, your pointed canines biting on the inside of your lower lip. You move to collect your things from where you had carelessly dropped them to the floor (when had you done that?), and cradle them close to your chest.

“Have a good day, Zenos.” He doesn’t say anything in return, and you don’t wait for him to. You turn on your heels, and take measured strides to the door you had entered through. You push on it enough to slide out, but don’t let yourself stop until you were mashing the button at the elevator. It wasn’t until you were in that metal box that your breath speeds up and you stagger in panic.

What the hell have you done? The situation was.. So, so fucked.

This was supposed to be a big break for you and your agency. You had been riding a cloud this morning, and now you were face-down on the pavement.

You bite back your tears, keeping yourself composed as your steps echo again in the underground lot. You throw yourself in your car, tossing your folder and phone onto the passenger seat and  just.. Sit there.

Was there even a way for you to fix this?

He wanted to sleep with you, you wanted his business; but there was absolutely no way you were going to fuck someone for business like that. If he offered to still do collaborations, would you even want that? Knowing what he ultimately wanted from you? The sad thing was, that he was absolutely gorgeous, and you recall from the party him being quite charming. He certainly had a way with you in his office, as well.

You should have never let him catch your attention.

You bury your face in your hands, shaking slightly as you curse yourself for your own stupidity.

You called Hien on your way back to the office.

Maybe he had good advice.

**Author's Note:**

> This was literally just my self indulgent kink fic. This chapter was mainly build up for a story I really hope to continue musing for. I haven't written anything in a very long time, let alone sex stuff.  
Be gentle.
> 
> Tell me if there's stuff I can improve on or change to make it easier to read. I want people to like this as much as I do.


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